


Coulson Fixes Everything: A Story of Exchanges

by ohdrey89



Series: Avengers: Age Of Drabbletron [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Clint Feels, Clint Needs a Hug, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Holidays, M/M, POV Phil Coulson, Phil Coulson & Nick Fury Friendship, Phil Needs a Hug, Post-Coital Cuddling, Topping from the Bottom, Wall Sex, phil feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2030283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohdrey89/pseuds/ohdrey89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our Phil Coulson can ne'er do wrong. Right? This is a story of what happens the one time Coulson royally sticks his foot in his mouth and Barton pays the price. </p><p>How does Clint Barton always manage to put himself into situations such as these? What could he have possibly done to piss off Coulson as bad as this? They don't even talk. Christmas rolls around and there's no one else either would even think to exchange gifts with, how can they mend the breach?</p><p>If they do, what will happen to the relationship between the Agent Archer and his Handler?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Equal Exchange of Guilt & Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I did it again you guys!!! I was just thinking in my head minding my own business. And BAM! This pops out. This Phlinty goodness. I didn't even think this was something missing in the world of Phlint, it just sort of... happened. 
> 
> Now that I've unleashed this fanfic demon again, I can't stop myself. AHHH!!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!! Oh no it just took out my feels!!! I'll be writing the naughty bits to post very very soon, probably later in the day. We'll see... 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 1**

**An Equal Exchange of Guilt & Gifts**

 

\---

 

It started out in an unusual way, this out of control obsession of mine. I’d always considered myself as a man, an individual, of self-control. I never needed to be questioned, never needed to rely on anyone else. No one above me in the chain of command ever put my reliability to question. In fact, everyone else seems to automatically put their trust in me. I’m just that kind of a guy. All of my life, I’ve been the nice trustworthy guy you can depend on, no matter who you are or what genre you subscribe to, depend upon me. I’m the default go-to guy. Any one needs straightening out? Send them to me. Need to put someone in line? Send them to me. Got a problem that needs fixing? It will get done by me. Need someone to handle Tony Stark? There’s no one else who would willingly take that job, but I will. The Avengers trust me as their SHIELD handler by default. I seem to have “Trust me, I’m your guy.” written on my forehead in indelible ink.

But there’s just one man that doesn’t seem to improve no matter what I do to him. He repels all of it just like he would pull back and release an arrow, sending it all slinging right back into my face. That man is Clint Barton, and I, Phil Coulson, was chosen to be his handler. I’m his direct line of authority. While he gets himself into his own messes that I have to clean up, he follows everything I tell him to do albeit grudgingly. But when we’re in the field it just works, we click and connect with an unbelievable precision. I’m the only person he’ll obey. SHIELD doesn’t like that he won’t trust other agents of my rank but I know its just something about Barton they don’t understand. Other agents try to bend and mold him, they try to challenge him, try to make something happen out in the field but you can’t force something to happen with Barton that just won’t. I tell him where to shoot and he takes down the target. It never fails. I tell him who to get information out of, he reports it back to me verbatim and we move to our next location. No muss, no fuss. He’s just not that kind of guy. He’s not James Bond, he’s Clint Barton. He’s not obsessed with fame, glory, the thrill of being an elite spy trussed up in a tuxedo, he hates missions that require him to be that guy. He just lives in the moment, shooting one arrow, and waiting until there’s another target to shoot. Clean, efficient. That’s the kind of reliability I can’t be without in the field. Most guys have that but they like showing off, the guts and glory. That kind of over-zealousness can be dangerous. Clint and I working in the field together just make sense.

That’s why I hated the day I caught myself staring. I had to query him again about his mission reports. They were always either sloppily done, half finished, or just never showed up on my desk at all. That last one was my last problem with the recent mission. We’ve been through the reasons why he needed to do it so many times he could tell what I was wanting from him when I gave him what Clint calls “that look.” It was practically down to a routine. I can usually feel “that look” on my face too. It’s derision mixed with disappointment and anger with a dash of annoyance. Can you blame me? I have twice as much paperwork to fill out as he does and having to berate him keeps me in the office for much longer than I intend.

I went and found him in the gym, practicing his archery. He’s not that hard to find. He’s either always eating or always practicing. I’ve seen his face when he does it, completely at ease, relaxed, focused, yet still in some far away place. I feel myself staring at his eyes, wondering what he could be thinking of, they wonder down to his neck and shoulders that flex and release as he reaches back, retrieves, sets up, pulls, and lets go. My eyes wander to his forearms and wrists and hands, tensing and relaxing in repetition, guiding the bow and arrows to submissive obedience. I watch his abs, ass and thighs twist clench and support his upper body that holds all of the tension as they roll over his bones, nothing but the well muscle tone of an athlete. Over and over he does this, effortlessly, his muscles giving up to memory. He has the count of his arrows down to a science, realizing as he walks over to the target board that he’s out of arrows. He’s pulling out the arrows one by one and I’m still staring at his ass. When he turns around he sees me and smiles with a wave coming over in my direction. I shake my head in the interim realizing just how bad I was staring, my pants uncomfortably tight. I’m glad for my field training, hiding my embarrassment deep in the layers so I don’t blush. It doesn’t hide the fact that I feel incredibly flustered.

“Hey sir. Why you here? Came to stare at my gorgeous bod?” Clint smiles reaching back to replace his arrows into his quivers. If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was doing this on purpose. Is Barton flirting with me? This alone fuels my anger, he thinks he can get away with not doing his reports by using his physique to distract me.

“No Barton. I was just observing your technique. Make sure you don’t over do it. SHIELD never gives you warning when they’re going to send you out into the field. I don’t need you stressing a muscle by spending too much time here shooting off arrows.” I was fuming. To be fair, he managed to get under my skin in my moment of vulnerability. Even though he didn’t know it.

“Aw, sir. You know me better than that. I can do this all day and not feel it.” He rubs the back of his head and looks so damn cute that I’m thunderous now.

“You also forgot to file your reports on the last mission. AGAIN!” My voice reverberates on the walls of the gym. I take a breath to collect myself. I’ve even surprised myself this time. Usually I don’t yell at Barton, there’s really no reason to, but I didn’t realize how deep this crush really goes.

“Sir… you know-“

I don’t let him finish. “No excuses, Barton. I’m tired of hassling you for them. Every time you either half-ass them or just neglect it entirely. I’ve taken up the slack for you with Fury for years now and have gotten your paperwork down to this one measly little form and you still can’t produce it! That’s it. I’ve had it. You can either have that report on my desk by tomorrow morning first thing or you can try working with one of the other field agents.” I hate the way my chest tightens as I slam the file folder on his hard chest with a thunk, in truth I’d have rather been pressed up against him like that file folder but I’m putting up all these barriers now and its too late to go back. His chastened face just makes me feel worse. I’ve never torn into him like this, I let other field agents do this kind of nonsense, its never productive with me, and now I know why.

“Yes sir.” Barton mumbles, in shock and barely able to speak to me. He doesn’t meet my eyes as he walks away to the showers, I note the tinge of pink at the tips of his ears. I let myself out of the gym, the door slams shut and the silence it leaves behind is thunderous, echoing in my ears.

\---

I didn’t hear from Barton for weeks after that. He stopped dropping by in my office unannounced to crash on my sofa and nap while I tapped away on the computer, he stopped eating lunch with me in the cafeteria, if he’s in the hall and we pass he stares at my feet. I don’t know what hurts worse, his avoidance or the memory of why he’s doing it. We still work in the field like we always do, but its not the same. His answers are curt at best, but we continue to get the job done effortlessly but there’s no more friendly banter, no more sass from him, nothing to make it what the work was, enjoyable. All of this combined with seeing the file folders containing perfectly filled out mission reports on my desk every morning after every mission, never accompanied with his smile and sparkling eyes has turned me into a storm. I catch him talking to Romanov in the hallway once, that was the worst day. Barton looked completely devastated and Romanov simply raised an eyebrow. I didn’t have to know what she thought or what they were talking about, their expressions were enough to clue me in, I stormed back into my office slamming the door. I storm through the halls at SHIELD, barking orders and scaring people away as they walk by me. Interns, newbies, even Tony Stark know not to cross my path. I was never that guy, I was always approachable. Most agents would thank me, saying that I’m the reason they love working at SHIELD. You can’t be afraid of your superiors or else it just doesn’t work. But now, everything is different with this rift between Barton and I. It has nothing to do with his performance on the job and everything to do with the vice that is now around my heart, knowing that he probably will never talk to me again.

\---

I suspect my behavior will probably get noticed eventually, and my suspicions are confirmed when one cold day after returning to my office I find it already open for me. I know just how bad it is when Fury is sitting behind my desk as I storm into it, ready to pick a fight with whomever had the audacity to break into my office. I have not been kind to my door as I slam it shut. Fury merely raises an eyebrow, unfazed.

“Now I normally don’t have to do this with you, but Phil we need to talk. You know I don’t like talking.” Fury gestures to the couch for my to sit. It may be my office, with my name on the door, but Fury always likes sitting in the chair behind the desk no matter what.

“What is this regarding sir? I have no idea what this could be about.” I’ve been in such a bad mood but the work is still impeccable. It really didn’t occur to me to think about his reasons for being in my office. All I wish is for him to go back to his work so I can get back to mine.

“Don’t bullshit me, Coulson. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He points at me staring at me with his eye.

“Then why don’t you tell me.” I don’t have much patience these days.

“You know, Coulson. You’ve turned this place into exactly what you hated working for the CIA and FBI. People used to love working here because of you, in the past few months this place has turned into a dungeon because of monster in the shape of you thundering around out there. You berated an intern for the way they made copies in the copy machine. Over a copy machine, Coulson!” He rolled his eye and stood coming over to sit next to me. He put his arm on my shoulder in a comforting way, I just wish I could feel a comfortable feeling when he does. “Now what the hell is going on?”

I feel the weight on my shoulders, they heave as I let out a great sigh. “I know, sir. I really messed up royally.” Putting my head in my hands is the only thing keeping me from melting into the floor. How can i explain that I yelled at my best agent because I got a hard-on in front of him and felt completely disarmed when he flirted with me?

“Well, Coulson, for the first time, in I think ever, you’ve done something wrong and now you have to make amends. Tell me what it is and I can help you fix it. You fix everyone else’s problems, I’m your superior, I can help you fix yours.” This cuddly boss thing really never looked that great on Nick Fury.

“I can’t really explain it to you sir, its more of a personal nature.” I gulp hoping he doesn’t figure it out.

“If it has anything to do with your attraction to Agent Barton, fix the damn thing and fix it now.” He gets up to walk out of the room and I try to lift my jaw off of the floor. “Oh and Agent Coulson, I won’t have you haunting the halls of this agency any longer, is that understood? Talk to Barton, I do not want to come down here and have this conversation with you again.” I simply nod as he closes the door with an authoritative jerk. I’m so stunned it takes me a while to realize that my boss knows I’m crushing on my best field agent. Well it really should be no surprise, that eye never misses anything. The first thing I realize I have to do is apologize to everyone at the office. Fury is right, they need the real me, not this gargoyle. I need to relax. It has been a while since I went to the gym and punched a bag into oblivion. I untie my tie realizing this had better be my first stop. I needed to think about all of this.

\---

I hadn’t felt that good, that clear headed, after my boxing session in a long time. I feel incredibly lighter while punching the bag repetitively, the tension melts off of my shoulders as my muscles burn. I think about all of it, knowing I have to apologize to Barton, how I could possibly mend what I broke by yelling at him, I even entertain the notion that through this we might even become closer. Although I tried to ignore the sound of a door opening and closing and the unmistakable boot that belongs to Barton making a hasty exit. I thought, let him hide. I needed to let this tension go and we’re both adults, there’s no reason to hide from me. But remembering how people would make a mad dash to get away from me in the hallways, maybe he did have a bit of a reason.

When I go through the halls this time, everyone stares, I’m walking around in my suit after a shower, but the collar is unbuttoned. I might also be in a really good mood. I won’t put my tie back on until i’m back at my desk where there’s a fresh one waiting in a drawer. I stop and apologize along the way to everyone I knew I had barked at, it wasn’t hard to forget. I get a few hugs, some sighs of relief. The office feels normal again and everyone can relax. I have exorcised the demon Coulson. Phil is back.

I stop and stare at the small break cafeteria room a few rooms down from my office door. It’s all decorated for Christmas. In my dark mood I had almost forgotten that the holidays are upon us. I had already gotten Barton something months in advance, when everything had been good. It’s sitting in the closet inside my office. I somehow manage to smile but feel sad at the same time. He probably won’t have something for me and I’ll never get to chance to give mine to him if he continues to avoid me. I see him chatting up some young agents behind the glass. I watch his expression change when he notices my gaze. His eyes grow wide, his mouth turns down. No longer does he see me as anything but a boss. I smile, as best as I can, and give him a wave. It hurts too much when he returns the wave, still with a shocked expression. I turn back to go to my office. I guess whatever we had I ruined permenantly. I try not to pay attention to the empty feeling that I carry around after that.

\---

It’s the Friday before Christmas Kwanza and Chanukah and as usual SHIELD is buzzing, we all love the holiday season like any other office. The singles get to mix and mingle, chatting and flirting. We drink overly spiked punch and egg nog that is always more rum than nog, people sing songs. Its a great atmosphere, and on these days the agency feels more like a family than just a group of government agents. But this time around, I can’t help but feel disconnected from it all. Barton and I were never truly the life of the party but we would still enjoy spending this time of year together. But now, I’m alone. Without him, I can’t join in on the fun because I’m still a boss, even as people wish me well for the holidays in the hallways.

I go down to the gym again, where no one will be and I let people hassle me with happy well wishes and asking if I’ll take time off, no one in SHIELD takes time off but we all like to ask each other anyone like some sort of ‘in’ joke. I laugh begrudgingly at it all and delight in the silence as I finally reach the gym. The silence is bliss. I spend an hour punching a poor bag that probably assumed it would get the day off since the holiday party was all anyone probably was talking about. I let the sadness be pounded into the bag, but this time it doesn’t help and I don’t last long before I give in and say a quick hi to everyone at the office party before heading home. A lonely apartment will be spending Christmas with me, what a merry pair we’ll be.

I shower and head back to my office to return my gym clothes to their spot in my office closet which sits next to the gift for Barton before I join the party already in progress. Now that I’ve worked out my feelings, I can join the others with a brave face.

I’m not prepared for seeing Barton putting a poorly wrapped box on my desk when I walk in.

“Oh hell.” He curses as he sees me coming in. He turns around, and I try not to moan at the blush on his cheeks. I’m not prepared for how enticing that looks. He can’t meet my eyes and that alone chases away any turn-on I had. I never, ever, wanted Barton to not be able to look me in the eye like I was some sort of drill sergeant or worse yet one of the elders in the carnival group he was apart of, the thought makes my skin crawl. I think I hate those kind of authority driven men more than Barton does. But that’s exactly how he makes me feel in this moment. He’s intimidated and I feel wretched.

“How in the hell do you get here? I locked my door when I left.” I question with an impressed smile on my face, he looks up to see me impressed by him with a shy smirk but quickly looks back down before pointing up at the vents. I just notice now that the vent sits at an odd angle not aligned at all with its hole.

“Ventilation, sir.” He blushes again but at least this time he looks at my face, even if it’s everywhere else but in my eyes.

“So you were going to just leave that there and not say anything to me?” That thought alone is weakening my resolve. This man would leave me a gift without a word even if we were fighting. I would just keep the gift for him until we would talk again. That kind of stalemate could go on forever.

“Yeah…” Barton trails off and looks at his feet putting his hand in his pockets. “I wasn’t sure whether or not you wanted to exchange gifts but I got you this anyway.” It was then he looked me in the eye finally and I could see how sorry he was, maybe for not doing his paper work, for making me mad at him, for avoiding me, maybe all of it rolled into one ball of guilt that he had probably been rolling around inside his head since I yelled at him. It was my turn to feel guilty. I always knew how to handle Barton, and I had done the exact opposite of right, I was in the wrong but he was punishing himself. Typical Barton behavior, never examine anyone’s wrong behavior only obsess over his own until he cracks under the pressure. I must have looked grave in my silence because he continued to talk every expression in his face and his stature begging for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, Phil. I know I messed up with the paperwork. I’ll try not to do it again. You’ve always gone to bat for me and pulled strings to take the pressure off the official side of our job for me and I took advantage of you. I know you hate having me for a field agent, all the other S.O.’s do to, so I won’t get in your way, anymore. I’ll just go now…” This snaps me into action. I pull him back as he tries to brush past me until his pert ass bumps into the desk, he barely lets out an ‘oof’ in surprise before I wrap my hands around the back of his head and gorgeous neck. I stare into his eyes, trying to look for some hint that this will be okay. There’s nothing in his eyes but a silent plea for me to continue and I do as I cover my mouth on top of his with a hard kiss.

Clint hesitates for a millisecond before returning it with just as much fervor. A tremor of relief runs through me while my tongue dances with his. I end the kiss just as quickly as I started it, but I try not to attack him again when he lets out a regretful moan at our mouths parting. Our chests heave as I back off, I may want to make a meal out of him but this is still my office, in SHIELD headquarters, not the time or the right place. Is it ever?

“You’re not the one who should be apologizing Clint. I am!” I scold him for his guilt but I hope he knows more than anything else that I’m scolding myself.

“But-“ He’s contrite but he doesn’t understand I forgave him the minute I yelled at him in the first place.

“No! Don’t make excuses for me. When have I ever yelled at you like that? Over something as inconsequential as paperwork? I should be used to hounding you for paperwork. Most times I do it for you. That’s no excuse for treating you the way I did. It was horrible. I couldn’t stop replaying it in my head over and over and feeling ashamed of it. I treated you like a piece of garbage. Worst of all is the reason behind it.” I hadn’t realized how far I walked away from him until I look back and there’s an ocean of guilt between us. My guilt mingled with his.

“I avoided you sir.” I nod knowing acknowledging that he did. For that I forgive him for now. I always tried to remind him that no matter what he can come to me, I guess that didn’t sink in yet.

“Yes you did. But my looming specter wasn’t exactly the most approachable thing, and seeing you avoid me just made it worse. No matter what mistake you’ve made or how badly you mess up in the field you can always come to me. You not being able to confide in me, to come to me. That was even more torturous than seeing your face from the day I yelled at you every night in my head before I went to sleep.” The confession stuns the hell out of me. I never thought I’d tell anyone that. The memory was my companion every night when I went to sleep and it greeted me every morning when I woke up. It was part of the reason I never was in a good mood until I exercised and let all of the guilt be pounded into a punching bag. I let my line of sight reach Clint’s eyes and I can see his eyes wide in surprise at my confession as well. They soften in the most beautiful way that leaves my stomach all tingly and warm.

“I was replaying your angry face in my head all the time too Phil.” When I see his smile back, I’m a man that is undone. I cross the room and don’t spare a second as I crush him into a hug. When he laughs, I let out a noise that is somewhere between a laugh and sob. It’s all too much, as the soft holiday singing of Bing and Rosemary mingled with the drunken voices of drunk agents waft into the air.

“I’m sorry, Clint.” I hope he doesn’t notice me snuggling into the spot where his shoulder meets his neck. The smell of him there is purely Barton. I want to drown in it and sleep forever. For now I’ll settle for just breathing it in and letting it soak into my soul.

“It’s okay sir.” He brings his arms up to return the hug.

“Phil.” I correct him. There’s no need for ridiculous etiquette while my arms are enveloping him.

“It’s okay, Phil. I forgive you. I’m sorry too. Sorry I didn’t come to you sooner.” His arms hug me back with a squeeze. I’ve noticed my hands have begun to travel to his lower back and shoulders and around to cradle the back of head, my fingers burrowing into his hair like they were meant to do it. I notice he does the same, my hair is longer than his as he scratches. I let out a groan and he chuckles, knowing that it was one of my weaknesses. One time we were stuck in the amazon jungle under camouflage and unable to reveal ourselves to the enemy outpost until the word was given, the place was crawling with mosquitoes. I spent hours fidgeting and scratching my head, but I was itchy all over. It wasn’t until Barton tried scratching it that I got relief and I was able to relax and not give away our position. He was the one that saved that mission. I myself lived on that moment for months after, but I longed for the day when he did it again but this time in affection like he was doing now. I pull back and drop a kiss on his lips.

“Why did you yell at me again?” He smirks when we pull apart, I thought I had gotten out of having to say it.

“Don’t make me say it.” I plead but his smile widens and I give in. “Fine. It’s was because I had caught myself staring at you while you were shooting arrows and I got all flustered. When you flirted with me it just made it worse, and I was over compensating because I felt vulnerable and I didn’t want you to know that I liked you.” It was my turn to blush.

“You like staring at me while I’m shooting my arrows huh?” He put his arms behind his head with a sly smile. I swear he was flexing his muscles on purpose. I gulped and I watch this moment of victory flash across his features.

“Yes, Barton, you’re attractive, you have a delectable body, and everyone knows it. Now do you want your Christmas present?” I question him with a lift of my eyebrow, crossing my arms. I won’t lose my authority just because I told him the truth.

“I dunno sir, that kiss from you was like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and my birthday all rolled into one.” Barton bit his lip in a way that sent a tremor of arousal through my body. I was already on my way there, if the man isn’t careful I’ll have him on this office floor I swear. I just want to fuck the arrogance right out of him.

“Fine, if that’s what works for you in lieu of a gift. I can always return it.” I glance over all nonchalance as I hesitate at the door to the closet.

“No, no! Please! I would love to have my christmas present.” He sits with great anticipation on my couch and I retrieve it like I decided to give it to him anyway.

“Here you go, Barton. Merry Christmas.” I announce handing him a neatly wrapped box that extends way beyond his lap on either side, but is about the height of any normal present box, which confuses him. He’s like a little kid as he rips into the present, undoing all my hard work of wrapping it. He makes sure to read the card at least with a smile. I try not to notice that he puts the card into his pocket. He can be quite sentimental about the little things.

I take his little present for myself to the couch and sit next to him as he opens the box with a final flourish sending wrapping paper all over the floor. Typical. Inside is a shirt that I saw in a store once while I was just browsing. It’s one of those purposefully distressed numbers where the insignia on it is already half-faded. But on the front of it is a bow and arrow, with some saying about shooting straight and you’ll never miss written around it, the shirt is a dark purple and the letters are in gold. It’s not the color or the bow and arrow or anything really that reminds me of him, when I saw it I thought of him and that was more than enough reason that I needed to buy it for him. He pulls the shirt aside to lay it between us with a fond expression. But underneath it, that’s the real present. It’s concealed inside a black case, he knows immediately what it might be from its shape and size and he’s not wrong. Clint unzips the case and pulls out a bow. But its not just any bow. I had it custom made. I told the guy Clint’s measurements and knew exactly how he likes the tautness of the string on his bows, who it was for and instantly the man fell over backwards to make Barton the bow to my exact specifications. Apparently Clint is some archery legend and for good reason. It’s made of solid wood, antiquated sure, but this isn’t the sort of bow he would use in the field, its more of something he can shoot with for fun and hang up on a wall when he’s not and it wouldn’t be too intimidating for others to see. More of a statement bow really. I try not to remember the thought I had of it being on display in an apartment living room we would share as we would be snuggling and kissing before a roaring fire. That’s something that feels like too much to hope for. Carved into the wood are line markings of bison, buffalo and deer that mimic the ancient cave paintings. Sure the time period is a little off for that, but I think it just sort of fits. I remember getting it from the guy’s shop and being so impressed I promised to bring Barton by when I got the chance. The whole thing is truly a work of art. I try not to feel my ego grow too much as I see him hold the bow with such reverence, his eyes huge in complete awe. He then looks to me in admiration for a second, astounded at the gifts I got him before kissing me. Yes, I did very well.

“Thank you, Phil. I’ve never had anything this amazing, ever.” He then remembers the shirt and wastes no time in shrugging off his gear to pull in on his body, his perfectly sculpted body. “Thanks for this too, the shirt is awesome.” His gleeful smile is its own reward.

“My turn!” I announce rubbing my hands together.

“I hope you like it, if you don’t you can return it or something. And I’m sorry for the bad wrapping. I’m never good at that kind of thing.” He’s always filled with apologies.

“Clint.” I snap to impede the apologies before they gain fervor.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.” I silence him as I rip away the wrapping paper. Inside is a box labeled Hugo Boss. I open up the box and there is the finest blue tie I had ever seen. The blue is the perfect blue for not only most of my suits but also for my eyes as well. The pattern in it was long lines that accentuated the length of the tie but split into an ornate French style pattern, but the threads that wove it were the same shade as the rest of the tie so if you weren’t looking they disappeared into the tie. It was subtle and understated but perfect. It was my turn to be amazed. “When did you get this?” Sure it was just a tie, but Barton clearly likes my suits and that’s enough to make me love this one most especially.

“After that day in the break room, when you waved at me. I couldn’t think of what to get you until then, when I couldn’t stop thinking about you walking around here without a tie on. That damn collar hanging open… you really did a number on me, Phil.” Clint blushed and looked away when I gave him a heated smile. I pulled him back to look at me and gave him a sickly sweet kiss, gliding my tongue across his lips in a tease before pulling away. “Thank you.” I did up the last two buttons of my collar and threw the tie around my neck. I had begun the process of tying my tie by memory not even having to look when I felt Clint’s hands still mine.

“Let me.” He smiled and I let my hands hang uselessly at my sides. He tied it meticulously, knowing just how I liked it tied. Feeling him do this to me alone, was enough to leave me hard for a week. I could see him doing this for me everyday. I couldn’t hold back anymore once his hands rested on my shoulders. I devoured his lips nibbling, tasting, having my fill of Clint Barton. He whimpered under my assault but growled when I pulled away again. His impatience mirrored mine. Enough Christmas-ing at the office for today.

“Let’s get out of here.” I announced gathering up the wrapping papers off of the floor and the couch to throw out and grabbing my things from the closet. We were getting out of here no matter what happened and I was getting a piece of that well sculpted ass. It’s almost Christmas, no one that would notice our absence would mind.

“Great! Your place or mine?” Barton questioned as he zipped up his new bow back in his case to sling over his shoulder. I walked up behind him and pulled him back against me, he rolled his gorgeous globes into my already painful erection, I bit into his neck, and moved to nibble at his earlobe before growling at his grinding motions.

“Mine.” I felt him shiver against me as I dropped my voice an octave on this command. I pulled him out of the office not bothering to think about what anyone thought of us with my hand in his as I pulled him into the elevator. Clint Barton and I were on cloud nine and came together hopefully for the rest of forever which would be fine for me, and that was the best Christmas gift I could be given. Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's the first bit. I kinda finished it there, like "oh that's the end, nice one shot completed!" and then my brain wouldn't stop thinking of all the naughty bits taking place inside Coulson's apartment once they get there. And all I can think now is "well NOW I have to write it!" 
> 
> So you will all get a first kind of teaser taste of how I write smut in a little bit. I'm not the best at writing M/M smut but heh, that's most definitely not going to stop me. I think it will most definitely will be quite satisfying anyway.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this and I hope you'll enjoy that little bit to come. ;D Stay tuned!! It's coming I promise! Oh and yet again don't worry about my longer Sherlock story all, I'm currently writing the next chapter for it as well, all my free time is completely devoted to writing instead of packing my room......... oops. I might have to put writing aside for a little bit. ....Nah.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are not necessary but really you should most definitely feed them to the writers who are most definitely hungry in their cages. Believe me. I'm a writer. We won't fling poop at you so much as quote Shakespeare rudely in your general direction and gesticulate as we talk to our characters like we're schizophrenics, but we're not, we're a socially accepted form of schizophrenics that are labeled writers.


	2. An Exchange of Naughtier Parts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Clint exchange looks, heated gazes, kisses and other naughtier things. 
> 
> They come together to realize that together is exactly the way they should have always been.
> 
> What works out in the field is perfection in the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is folks, my Phlint smut, and its glorious!!! I have to admit even I found this exciting, I hope you all do too. 
> 
> I always say, if I enjoy reading what I write that means at the very least that will come across to you all as well. 
> 
> Don't ask me how I thought it up, it just happens. It's not me, its all my brain and my brain is awesome. 
> 
> Hope this improves upon your Mondays!!! This would be just the thing I would need to get me through and I'm glad to do it for all of you. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Just establishing here and now the usual in ways of disclaimers, what everyone else knows here that the whole world knows. We are all unaffiliated from these series and its creators, other than our unswerving love for each of them. We make no profit, and seek none. We merely just wish to express ourselves entertain each other and play around with the characters for a little bit.

**Chapter 2**

**An Exchange of Naughtier Parts**

 

\---

 

I drove all the way back to my apartment from SHIELD with Clint Barton sitting next to me in the passenger seat. He smiles every time I look in his direction. I know he wonders why but I’m just driving home hoping he’s still in the car when we get to my place and its not just some really elaborate day dream on my part. I hope when we finally get inside my apartment he’s as ready for this to happen between us as I have been.

When we’re within a couple of blocks of home, Barton decides to get a little touchy feely. Okay so apparently this is very real. This is most definitely happening when I feel his tongue and teeth on my ear and his hands feeling the tensing muscles around my ribs. My heart is fluttering inside it like a caged bird.

“Fuck!” The word just tumbles out of my mouth when his right hand travels south in the general direction of the seat of my pants that are now horribly tented. He doesn’t bother to go anywhere near where my body is screaming for him to go, he just caresses the belt of my pants like he’s got so many ideas about what he wants to do with it. His hand moving back and forth across it gives me so many ideas that I veer off the road a little bit, a honking horn wakes me up.

“Watch the road, sir.” He whispers and my whole body is chills and nerve endings. Damn, Clint Barton. Damn him and his roaming hands and dancing tongue. I am so glad when I see the parking garage for my building, so very glad. I still don’t know how we made it through that trip alive.

Clint moves back into his seat just in time for the cameras of the garage to not catch us. It’s considerate of him in a way that I wish he wasn’t. I’ve never given a thought to what other people think, nor should he. I park into my spot and take a minute to just breathe, laying my head on the cool leather of the steering wheel. If I don’t get a grip on myself, this all might be over much sooner than I’d like it to be. And I’ve always prized myself on my stamina but then again this is Clint Barton, and we’re about to get freaky. It’s been a while and the fantasies I’ve had of the beautiful man sitting next to me aren’t that much help either. It doesn’t help when all of your wild imaginings are about to be defied by reality.

When I look over he’s already gotten out of the car and is leaning against it, waiting for me. I have a feeling he’s trying to act more casual that he really feels when I notice his muscles tensing and relaxing. I shake my head once and set my jaw. It’s now or never. I get out and make short work of locking Lola up. Then I drag him by the hand towards the elevator. With my hand wrapped around his perfectly sculpted jaw I pull him towards me and feast upon his mouth. He tries to pull away when he notices we’re right in front of a security camera but I don’t let him. All Clint can do under my assault is take it, and hold onto my arms. When I hear the elevator doors open I push him into it backwards while I walk forward with our lips clinging together, seamlessly pressing the buttons for my floor, just a few floors from the top. We’ve got a long ride in this box together, alone. Perfect. My teeth nibble on his lips, to which he answers with a moan when I pull his hips against mine with my free hand. We connect there and can feel each other’s excitement. His dick is as rock hard as his abs. When we feel each other its all static electricity and moaning into each other’s mouth. Ah, bliss. At least it would have been perfect bliss until I hear the elevator doors open, we break apart before we can be seen. I see one of the women from a floor below me, Lara, a typical career girl, but with an edge, she wears a suit but the suit never wears her. She never explains what happened in her past, and I don’t ask, sometimes when she’s in relaxed clothes I catch glimpses of old tattoos, there’s a story there that intrigues but I will wait for her to tell it. She smiles in Clint’s and my direction, guiding her Siberian Husky onto the elevator. Her dog looks to me with a pleased smile and sees Clint, she eyes him and quickly barks before wagging her tail. Humans approved. Dogs always know who’s trustworthy, I’ve always trusted the opinion of a dog.

“Sasha down!” My neighbor smiles apologetically to me when she jumps onto Clint and starts begging for him to lean over for kisses. “Sorry Phil, she loves meeting knew people, especially of the male variety.” Clint’s goes from just being a little red to doing a fairly good impression of a cherry tomato. He was hoping to not be introduced at this moment, not knowing what we are, what I should call him. It creates a lot of complicated questions with answers neither of us are ready to give.

“That’s alright Lara, Clint doesn’t mind.” I smile in Clint’s direction. I see his questioning gaze, thinking I wouldn’t introduce him to neighbors like I’m trying to hide him or how I want him to the general public. What do I have to hide really? “Lara Wilkes, this is Clint Barton.” I introduce them to prove a point. She smiles to him and shakes the hand that currently isn’t being licked while simultaneously giving ear scratches. Clint laughs awkwardly and says his ‘hello.’ He tries to calm Sasha down, who doesn’t like not being the center of attention when she’s demanding it of someone. The cooing voice he uses on her stirs my insides in a warm, easy way. But I’ve always had a weakness for dogs and Clint Barton. Put them together and I surrender.

“This dog.” Lara rolls her eyes when Sasha makes attempts at climbing up Clint’s body until he kneels down so she can commence facial kisses and we exchange a laugh at Sasha and Clint’s expense. “So how do you two know each other?” She questions with a knowing grin. I’ve had Lara over my apartment and even dog-sat Sasha when Lara had to go on a last minute business trip. We’re good friends really.

“Oh we work together,” Clint eyes me as I don’t elaborate. As far as my building knows I have a government job I can’t talk about, they don’t question it but they all greet me in the hallways, I guess they sleep better on their pillows at night knowing I sleep with a gun under mine.

“Office romance?” Lara teases with a giggle, now its my turn to blush. Clint just looks down to Sasha who’s giving him hugs while laying her head against his stomach. I couldn’t help but notice how much I needed to get a dog of my own for Clint to cuddle.

“A bit, yeah.” Lara smiles fondly at the two of us when the elevator dings for her floor. She pulls Sasha off Clint and out of the elevator. She turns towards her part of the hallway sparing one last wave.

“Well you two have fun!” She calls just as the doors slide close. Clint and I both share a look and a laugh that breaks the heated tension. We ride the rest of the short distance to my floor in companionable silence. When the elevator dings, I grab Clint’s hand and pull him in the direction of my apartment barely waiting for the doors to open.

\---

When we reach my apartment door and I don’t know how I got it open but we sort of just fall into my hallway. I throw my bag and keys in the general direction of where I usually put them, but Clint and I are all mouths and hands at this point. We’re both shaking with the mounting tension, ready for the release.

“Bedroom?” I question against Clint’s neck that I’ve started nibbling, which causes him to moan and nod, unable to form words. Knowing that’s how far gone Clint is, makes me moan as I push in the direction of the room down the hallway. Clint pulls and we work in tandem to get there, I’ve already removed my tie, shoes and socks, they litter the hallway behind us.

I think we’re almost to the bedroom when I press Barton up against the wall halfway there. I try to take control but Clint just isn’t having it as the space between my hands that are on the wall is suddenly vacant. I turn to look at him but he keeps my hands against the wall holding onto my wrists, I feel his throbbing, heated body against my back and I moan unabashedly. He starts to move his hands down my body, I moan his name making one more attempt at tilting the power back in my favor. According to Clint, that is not allowed.

He bites my shoulder so hard I can feel it through my shirt and suit jacket, I hiss in reply. “Stay.” He commands, replacing my hands on the wall. I let out an anxious moan, completely at his torturous liberty and unable to utter a single word. I never suspected that giving up my sturdy sense of control is a huge turn-on because right now its torn to shreds and I don’t give a damn about it. I’ve never been so rock hard in my life.

I feel Clint’s hands run down my back and up the front of my chest reaching for the lapels of my suit jacket. Clint slowly guides it off my shoulders and eases it down my arms, letting his fingertips leave burning trails down the skin of my arms after it. I place my hands back upon the wall without needing to be told. “Good.” Clint growls in approval. The simple word of praise has my head reeling, Clint’s pace is relentlessly patient, as I feel him kneel behind me guiding his hands down the front of my legs, feeling my muscles flex through the trouser legs of my suit pants, my bare feet he barely caresses with a tickling touch and then he comes up to cup the globes of my ass. I groan against the wall placing my forehead against it. He grabs my buttcheeks possessively, staking his claim and I find myself grinding my ass against his touch. How delicious his touch feels, and how debauched I must look. The thought of surrendering myself so easily to Clint’s touch is so damn exciting.

His hands slide to the front of my hips and he lays himself upon my back again to give him more room to run his hands along the insides of my thighs and up to my belt buckle, without touching my cock at all. I’d be annoyed if the touch didn’t cause me to keen. I’m practically begging under his ministrations. He makes quick work of getting my buckle open and my zipper down. He reaches inside but only to give my cock a bracing squeeze, soothing and torturing me at the same time. He simply lets the pants fall down my legs when he pulls away entirely. I don’t move but I note his absence, brief though it is. He takes off my shirt with barely a whispers of a touch, I open my mouth to beg for him to touch me again until he lays against my back again, we’re skin to skin, chest to back. He grinds his cock against my ass cheeks, humping it really, there are only a couple extremely thin layers separating us. I’m so sensitive that I can practically feel his cock as though it were naked. I’m almost sobbing with tension until he shushes me and drops a kiss on my neck, just a peck. Apparently he doesn’t know what all of this is doing to me.

When he pulls my hands down from the wall and turns me around, he’s almost naked excepting his boxer briefs, me in only my boxers. I lick my lips, unable to stop drooling at the sight, I get practically the same heated gaze from him. Clint pulls me towards him by the elastic band of my boxers and crushes my lips in a kiss I gladly return, he pulls my boxers down and I do the same with his boxer briefs. There we are together, naked in my hallway. Everything in me is tense trying not to lose control. We’re staring into each other’s eyes and just take a minute to savor the electricity between us. Nothing passing between us but sweet kisses before Clint pulls me the rest of the way towards the bedroom.

“Time to play!” Clint announces into the air, gives me a smile, and runs into the room. I shake my head and groan walking into it behind him. I brace myself against the door jamb suddenly weak kneed when I see him laying across the bed, his cock standing up away from his body, a perfect specimen, dripping with pre-come. He’s closed his eyes, hands behind his head and I use the opportunity to sneak up on him and quickly swallow his cock in one gulp, suctioning my cheeks and lapping my tongue against the glans and frenulum. In two strokes, he’s gasping, moaning. By the third stroke, he’s thrusting into my mouth. When I repeat the process again and moan around the head of his thick rod I get what I want from him when he shouts my name. “Phil!” I look up at him and he groans throwing his head back. I feel his fingers in my hair and I make him pull at it to yank me off his beautiful cock. I let it go with a noisy pop that makes him visibly shudder. I smile and lay down against Clint’s thigh with a cheeky smile. He sits up on his elbows and takes a minute to breathe. It takes him a little bit to recover, his eyes glazed over in lust, before he catches my line of sight and notices my shit-eating grin. I waggle my eyebrows at him and chuckle. Clint answers with his own mischievous grin and I gulp knowing that it could very well mean my sexual demise. My suspicions are confirmed when he bends me in half until my knees are in my shoulders and my ass is up in the air. In this position, I realize with a shaky moan that I am totally exposed and at his mercy.

He looks down at my ass with such admiration and I can’t meet his eyes, it’s too overwhelming. Pre-come beads steadily from my cock when I know whats to come. He pulls my cheeks apart with his possessive touch, digging his fingertips into the forgiving flesh. I moan when he compliments my asshole. “Perfect” is the word I hear him whisper before I feel his tongue lapping at it.

He strokes a line all the way from the tight ring of muscle all the way to the tip of my cock just once and I’m lost. “Clint!” I shout his name and it reverberates against the walls of the room. He returns to slowly opening me up under his gentle ministrations, he uses a gentle probing index finger to open me up and is slowly working it in and out until the muscles give way, he adds a second finger stretching me out and continues to lap at the ring of muscle, working his tongue against the fingers wiggling inside. I am a constant continuous moan during the process. I try to stop myself but I can’t. By the time he adds a third finger I’m clutching at the bedspread and using the leverage to thrust up into his fingers begging for more. He gives it when he curls his fingers and finds my prostate. I see stars and I’m begging for him to stop. This could all end if he doesn’t. “Please Clint! I want you inside me when I come.” I beg to him. I thrash my head against the bed after taking the effort to tell him what I need in a coherent sentence. He gives a moan against his fingers that I can feel in my body at my plea and reluctantly pulls his fingers out and crawls between the space of my legs. He managed to somehow locate a condom and lube in the space of opening me up. I’m writhing impatiently against the bed as he sheaths that gorgeous iron piece of man meat in latex. He strokes it with lube and also adds a bit to my ass. I meet his hooded gaze, biting my finger, the moment has arrived, our mutual satisfaction of finally joining with each other is imminent.

When he inches forward, ready to line himself up I wrap my legs around him, my ankles coming tying together against his back in a vice grip, I won’t let him pull away from me again, ever. He smiles softly to me and I pull his head down for a crushing kiss, his cock presses against my hole and in one stroke he’s inside me. I let out a moan and he a groan, laying his head against my shoulder. I thread my fingers through his soft hair while he gets control of himself. His panting, shaky breaths against my skin betray all the bravado and control he pretended to have before. Clint is just as overcome from this experience as I am. We take a minute to enjoy the feeling, myself feeling fuller than I’ve ever felt, and its divine. When I clench around Clint’s cock to feel it, the moan I get elevates my heart to new heights. I can only imagine the bliss Clint is feeling.

He begins thrusting, setting a slow pace that slowly building, I moan feeling his balls slapping against the cleft of my ass every time we come together. I pull him down for a kiss and use the moment of distraction to flip us over. He may be pitching but its the catcher that controls this ballgame. I’m grinding down on his dick trying to find the perfect angle while he grins up at me. “Leave it to you, Phil, to top from the bottom.” Clint laughs and I lick my lips in reply reaching down to nip at his collarbone, silencing him on a moan. I tease his nipples and moan when I find just the right spot, seeing stars as electricity shoots up my spine over and over again as I start riding his cock like a man possessed. He meets me thrust for thrust, my fingers digging into his shoulders to leave bruises but I don’t care. I can only chase the feeling that is building, the heat that is pooling in my groin, hotter and hotter. Clint digs his fingers into my hip and strokes my cock in his hand, he glides his thumb across the head and I’m coming so hard I see nothing but white in my vision. I look down when my vision clears, and I watch his face just in time to see him coming undone underneath me, his fingers leaving bruises in my hips. I feel his cock filling the condom, and I clench to milk him dry. I deeply regret the presence of the condom. Once his body decompresses, I gently pull him out and fall onto the bed on my side. I am completely rung out and man does it feel good. Clint’s eyes are closed and I wonder if he’s asleep but he’s not when he meets my gaze, feeling my eyes upon his body. Neither one of us are bashful now, neither of us has anything to hide. He slides the condom off, ties it off and throws it into the trash bin in the corner not missing at all. I give a disapproving looks he merely shrugs and puts his hands behind his head again. His chest is covered in come and I can’t help myself as I reach down. He moans when he sees what I’m doing. He’s overly sensitive now and I don’t spare him twirling my tongue around each of his nipples that are still rock hard. When I’m finally done he simply glares at me. I rest my head in him hand next to his chest and reach out with the other to hold his hand in mine.

“That was just cruel and unusual punishment.” He huffs pouting in my direction.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy watching me lick my own cum off your chest.” I teased him mercilessly.

“Still. Not fair, Phil.” He accused with a finger pointed in my general direction.

“I never said I play fair.” I stick my tongue out at him making a beeline for the shower in the adjoining bathroom, he runs after and catches me trapping me in his arms, crushing me to his chest in an embraces, topped off with a kiss. It’s slow and steady, full of this new affection we now share. When we part, we’re smiling at each other like dopey idiots drunk on love and I pull him into the glass shower. I’ve never seen him so happy as we wash each other clean. We don't even need to speak during the process, silence mixed with heated, affectionate glances and wet kisses speaking louder than words. By the time we crawl into bed, I, Phil Coulson, know that whatever this is, whatever it will be in the future - as Clint Barton's arms come around me from behind to snuggle as I close my eyes to sleep - will last forever and a day. I plan on never letting Clint get away again. Ever.

 

\---

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, the last chapter and the completion of another installment in my Age of Drabbletron series. I can't really promise that the rest of it will be "drabble" length. Kinda just going with whatever my brain cooks up here. Something that I think is going to be relatively short ends up having chapters. I just can't stop myself. 
> 
> Hope you liked this though, and found the Phlint smut to be satisfying. I try so hard.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are not necessary but really you should most definitely feed them to the writers who are most definitely hungry in their cages. Believe me. I'm a writer. We won't fling poop at you so much as quote Shakespeare rudely in your general direction and gesticulate as we talk to our characters like we're schizophrenics, but we're not, we're a socially accepted form of schizophrenics that are labeled writers.


End file.
